


Between

by oooknuk



Series: Revelations [3]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 04:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10779153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oooknuk/pseuds/oooknuk
Summary: You didn't think Immortals were going to be secret forever, did you?





	Between

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: Violence, language, angst and not enough sex.
> 
> Thanks, Louise

Duncan looked down, amused, as Methos licked the last traces off his lips. "You look like a cat when you do that."

Methos growled a 'miaouw' against his lover's stomach. "Pedigree?''

"No, pure alley cat. Ow!" He'd been nipped and not playfully. "That hurts! I meant it as a compliment, you know."

"Humph," Methos said, pushing himself up. "Come on -- we've just enough time to shower before the taxi gets here."

"We've got an hour," Duncan protested.

"Like I said, just enough time," the old man purred. Mac just rolled his eyes.

They were in fact still pulling on the last of their clothes as the taxi beeped and had to run for it. Mac was grateful he knew Methos well enough to have packed their suitcases before they embarked on a spot of last minute lovemaking. He mock cuffed the Ancient as he fell laughing into the car. "You did that deliberately," he accused.

"Better than pacing and waiting, you have to admit," Methos smirked.

Mac pulled a face. "You're bloody impossible," he said then took his lover's hand discreetly as the taxi drove to the airport. He was glad they were finally on their way - he and Methos needed the peace and quiet of his island. It had been a rough couple of years for them both, and they needed time to explore their new relationship without the pressures of the game.

They settled into first class, and listened to the obligatory safety announcement. Unconsciously, Mac again reached for Methos' hand and found he didn't have to move very far before he found it. "Okay?" he asked.

Methos smiled. "I'm fine. Just don't like flying."

If that was all it was, then Mac was relieved. The last time he'd flown this journey with Methos, the old man was just hours out of hell, and terrified of his own shadow. A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since then.

They both slept on and off on the overnight flight, arriving in Seacouver just after dawn. Mac watched Methos yawn and stretch, then smile as he spied the Highlander looking at him. "I plan to be making love to you by lunch time," he said quietly.

"Sounds like a plan," Mac grinned back.

The flight was full, and coming off at New York was delayed, which led to grumpy, tired passengers and crying children jostling and whining around the two Immortals who contrived, despite it, to remain calm and almost unruffled. It seemed forever before they were lined up in Immigration. Methos was ahead of Mac. The clerk looked at his passport and then checked the computer, frowning. "Is there a problem?' Methos asked politely. Mac put his hand on his shoulder, coming closer to listen to the conversation.

"I'm sorry, Mr Pierce, I'll have to ask you to go with my supervisor." As she spoke, a solid, grey-haired man was already making his way over to the desk. Methos backed away a little before collecting himself.

Mac came to his side. "Can I help?" Mac said, wondering why Methos' impeccable planning had let him down.

"Mr ... MacLeod," the supervisor read from Mac's passport. "Yes, I think you should come with us. This way if you please."

Mac looked at Methos, who was revealing nothing in his stony expression. He imitated the old man's apparent disinterest, but inside he was worried sick - he'd never had a problem with Immigration before, and this was awaking nasty memories of passing through checkpoints during WWII. He had a growing suspicion that Methos' new identity as 'Benjamin Pierce' was less than water tight, but he was utterly astonished not to be greeted by civil service flunkies in the anonymous office they were taken to - but five well-armed, well-fed and undoubtedly well-trained soldiers, among them an officer.

"What's going on?" Mac demanded angrily of the major who approached. "I'm an American citizen."

"Mr MacLeod, please take a seat. Our business is principally with Mr Pierce, but since you are here, I'm afraid you are involved as well. "

"Involved in what?" During their exchange, Methos remained silent, and as he was behind Mac, the Highlander could not see his lover's face.

"I can't explain that at this particular time, sir. I must ask you both to accompany me and my men back to our base."

"Not until we know what's going on," Mac said indignantly

"I'm sorry to hear that, because I am not empowered to say more than I have already," the major said with apparently genuine regret. "In that case, I am authorised to take both of you into custody for reasons of national security."

"No!" Methos shouted from behind Mac, sounding angry and not a little frightened. Mac turned to reassure him but his arms were grabbed, as were the old man's.

"Tell me what this is about," Mac demanded again.

The major remained impassive. "You'll be briefed later, sir, but for now, I must ask you to come with us."

"Go to hell," Mac grated out, struggling uselessly against the two soldiers holding him. It was like being held by a tractor. He _could_ have got free, but not without causing an enormous scene, and right now, that didn't look to be the wisest course of action. Not in a busy airport, at least, with half a mile of security, police and possibly more military between them and freedom.

"I'm sorry, but I will have to have you restrained for your own safety." The major signalled, and handcuffs were produced and placed on Mac's wrists.

Angry as he was, Mac knew well that the best course of action here was to co-operate. He submitted to his hands being cuffed in front of him with gritted teeth but no comment. The soldier reached for Methos to do the same to him, but to Duncan's surprise, Methos began to struggle. His eyes had widened until the whites showed all around the pupils, and his nostrils had flared in a classic picture of a panic attack. His distress ignored, he was easily restrained by the men holding him, his hands seized and the handcuffs attached and then, to Duncan's dismay, the long hands began to shake. "No," Methos moaned, going white as a sheet, and sagging as if his knees would not support. In the next moment, he did sink to the ground. The soldiers moved towards him to lift him.

"Ben," Mac said fiercely. Methos seemed not to hear him, as the guards hauled him to his feet. He began to fight their attempts to move him and the major drew his handgun, although it was not aimed. Mac swore and surged against his captors. As if galvanised by this, Methos suddenly broke free with a tremendous jerk and tried to run away. He tripped, but flipped over on his back and began to push himself away from the soldiers who seemed wary of his distress. "Ben, calm down," Mac shouted, careful to use the 'official' name even in this extremity.

"Get the fuck away from me," Methos shouted, and forgetting his guards, Mac made to go to him, but was restrained.

He turned to his captors to beg mercy. "Let me help him," Mac pleaded with the officer. "You have no idea what you're putting him through." Methos was now picked up bodily and struggled violently but fruitlessly between the huge soldiers. Mac strained against the strong arms preventing him from going to his lover.

"What's wrong with him?" the major asked, clearly concerned.

"Two years ago he was captured and tortured for a couple of months," Mac explained, trying to sound calm and reasonable when he felt anything but. "He gets flashbacks. Please, let me go to him. You have my word of honour that I won't try anything."

The major looked at him coolly, maybe even with sympathy, then nodded to the men holding Mac's arms. Released, Mac walked over to where Methos was being held down on the ground. "Give me a minute to try and calm him down. Please." The soldiers loosed their hold on Methos and stepped back - but their guns were drawn and kept ready.

Mac ignored them and took Methos' hands. The anguished face of his lover met his eyes. "Methos," he said in a low voice. "You have to calm down or they'll calm you down."

"Mac, please - I can't go through this again. I can't." Methos was beginning to hyperventilate, and his hands continued to shake as if he had a palsy.

"I know. Shhh. I'll be with you. Look, it's the American Army. They have rules and things. It won't be like before."

"Mac - please ...." Methos said in a faint voice, his eyes still staring in terror.

"Come on, hold things together for me. I'll make them keep you with me, but you have to calm down."

"Don't let them touch me," Methos pleaded.

It tore at Mac seeing his fiercely independent lover reduced to begging. "I'll try. We don't have a lot of time, Methos. Just trust me and I'll look after you." How he could keep this promise, he had no idea but it was what Methos needed to hear. "Come on and get up." He helped Methos stand then called to the captain. "Can't you cuff us together? Keep us together?" If he could do nothing else, at least he could share the ordeal this time.

The captain nodded to his soldiers and Mac was cuffed to Methos. He kept a firm hand on Methos' wrists as they were led to a waiting van where they were made to sit on hard wooden benches before the door was closed, and the van moved off. Two guards sat with them, but kept their distance, for which Mac was grateful.

The way the two Immortals were cuffed meant putting his arm around Methos was a very intimate experience, but Mac couldn't give a damn what their guards thought. He hugged Methos close to him, distressed by the excessive shivering and the wild look in the other man's eyes. "Calm down," he whispered over and over, even though he wasn't sure at all Methos' terror wasn't completely justified. If the major couldn't - or wouldn't - explain, it was a sure bet it was either too important for him to know about, or too secret to mention in a civilian facility. It was also a sure bet this had _something_ to do with Methos' capture by BioKnight.

Methos wasn't getting any calmer as the journey continued - Mac hadn't seen him this upset even when they'd freed him on Corsica. It gave him an idea. "Methos," he whispered into his lover's ear, "play along." Methos gave no sign he'd been heard but Mac had to try.

More loudly, so the guards could hear -"You're going to have to stop the vehicle," Mac said urgently. "He's going to throw up."

The older of the two guards looked alarmed, and radioed the cab. Mac felt the van slow down. "Could you release his hands? That's what's freaking him out."

He hadn't exaggerated much - Methos looked terrible, on the verge of collapse. The guard not on the radio looked dubiously at Mac - he clearly wasn't keen on letting Methos out of his cuffs. Methos solved the dilemma by retching just as the vehicle rolled to a halt - act or reality, Mac wasn't sure and had no time to check. The soldier hastily opened the door and Mac dragged Methos out. He realised his opportunity, and regretfully, he dropped his lover hard on the ground and swung his fist into the soldier's balls. The man fell, and Mac grabbed his gun, pointing it at him and his friend. Methos stood up beside Mac, apparently unaffected by his attack.

"Keys," Mac demanded of the solider on the ground, waving his gun at the other soldier to warn him to keep his distance. The man - boy really - shook his head. "Don't lose your life over this, kid, it's not worth it." By now, the major and the other soldiers had come out from the cab.

"MacLeod, you can't get away," the officer said calmly. Neither he nor his men attempted to approach, for which Mac was grateful - he didn't want to kill good men doing their jobs.

"We can and we will. You have no right to detain us and I won't let you lock him up again. Now give me the keys or I'll blow his head off. Don't tell me we're worth a soldier's life."

The major hesitated, but then signalled to the other soldier who started to move forward. "Ah, ah, ah," Mac warned. "Throw the keys to Pierce."

Methos caught the tossed object, quickly releasing their bonds. "Cuff the officer," Mac ordered his lover. Methos relieved the man of his gun, and made him lie on the ground before binding his hands behind his back. The other solders were similarly disposed of. "Now," Mac told the prone soldiers. "I know you will be reported missing soon enough, and I know you'll be coming after us. Let me give you and the government a piece of advice - don't."

They were in a relatively isolated area, and the men were lying in such a way that most traffic would miss them. Mac and Methos spent a couple of minutes tying their captives' feet together with their own belts and getting their wallets and personal papers back before getting back in the van and driving off.

"Fuck," Methos said. "That'll delay them all of an hour, Duncan."

"If we're lucky," Mac agreed grimly. "We need to ditch this van - any idea where we are?"

"You're asking me?" There was a map on the dashboard, and by working out their direction and the time they'd been on the road, Methos thought he had their approximate position. "You know this thing probably has a locating signal on it."

"I know. How much cash have you got?"

Methos riffled through his wallet quickly. "Bugger - only a hundred."

"I've got about the same - enough to get us a train ticket each to somewhere."

"Where?"

"Anywhere away from here."

"Mac, what are you thinking?" Methos asked, slightly irritably.

"I'm not thinking, I'm panicking!" he shouted.

"I thought I had that side of things covered," Methos snapped. Mac turned to him startled, and then they both laughed. "Shit, what a mess, Mac. Maybe we should have gone with them."

"No way, Methos. You know what it was doing to you - you can't control that, and I can't allow it."

"They'll find us eventually."

"Not if I get Dawson on the case." Mac risked another look at Methos. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Sorry about that - I really don't know what came over me."

Mac fumbled for his hand. "I've got a fair idea. Now, how do we get out of here, and where the hell do we go?"

They decided to risk driving to the nearest town with a rail and bus service, and ditched the car near the train station before buying Greyhound tickets with cash under false names. "Got a card with another ID, Methos?" Mac asked as they waited to board the bus.

"Fortunately, I have. What are you thinking - motel and get Joe to pick us up?"

"Yeah, if he can."

"Damn, I wish I had my laptop - I might be able to see if they were tracking us," Methos complained.

Mac was struck by a fresh anxiety. "Methos - your computer. There's nothing on it, is there?"

Methos rolled his eyes. "Oh, for heaven's sake, MacLeod - do I look as if I was born yesterday?"

Mac grinned despite the situation. "Actually, you do. Okay, let's relax - we've got six hours of doing nothing."

The coach let them off in a small town which declared itself to be Hamletsville, a redundancy which amused them both. There was a choice of two motels, both run down and anonymous, and Mac simply went with the first one they came to, booking a double, ordering the overpriced meal on offer and closing the cheap door behind them gratefully. Methos looked around in distaste. "And to think I'd been looking forward to this trip."

Mac put his arms around his lover. "Oh, I dunno. It's got all the essentials - a bed, you, me - what more could you want?"

"For a start, a pillow that didn't look like the geese had lived in it before they were plucked."

"You don't use a pillow - you always sleep on me."

"It's the principle of the thing." Methos sat on the bed and bounced on it. "Hard as a rock." He peeked underneath the mattress. "There's a board under here," he announced accusingly.

"For Pete's sake, Methos - you've slept in a lot worse places than this!"

Methos grinned suddenly. "I know - but you're so cute when you're annoyed. You'd better call Joe."

Mac sat on the armchair to do just that, while Methos stripped down to his boxers. Without his sword, Mac felt naked, and he knew Methos was even more paranoid about being without a weapon. They'd left the army guns behind, and were now defenceless beyond their bare hands. The only consolation was that with two of them, and with his reputation, even an armed Immortal might hesitate before taking them on. He hoped.

Eventually Joe answered. "Joe, it's Mac. We've got a problem." He explained.

"Holy shit, MacLeod. The American government wants him?"

"And me. Joe, we have to get out of the country." Mindful of possible eavesdroppers, Mac was careful not to use Methos' real name. "Ben's got some papers we can use, Amanda can set me up a new identity. Can you help?"

"Give me 24 hours, Mac. Where are you?"

Mac told him, and gave him the necessary information. Joe said he would call back the same time the following evening. The delay frustrated Mac, but there wasn't much he could do. Methos came and knelt down in front of him, taking his hands. "Duncan, I think all we can do for now is wait and lay low." Methos rubbed his thumb over the back of Mac's hand. "You do realise this means the end of Duncan MacLeod?"

"Had to happen sooner or later, I guess," Mac said heavily, not any happier than Methos imagined him to be.

"I'm sorry it's because of me."

Mac seized his face. "Not because of you, Methos. Because of who we are, what we represent. It could be any one of us."

"You just hoped it would be to some other guy."

Mac nodded, smiled ruefully. "Not very brave."

"No - but very sensible." Methos stood up. "I'm going to take a shower. Join me?"

"No, I'd better wait for the food. I wouldn't put it past them to charge us for it whether we're here to collect it or not."

Methos grimaced. "Having seen the room, I wonder if paying for it without eating might not be getting off lightly."

The food did arrive while Methos was showering, but despite the omens, it was actually not bad. Mac was starving - their last meal was on the plane early that morning - so he didn't even wait for Methos to get out of the bathroom before starting. Methos fell on the food as if he hadn't eaten for a month. Replete, and feeling a little calmer, they lay on the bed, Mac holding Methos to his chest, the old man stroking his pectorals slowly. "Where will we go?" Methos asked softly.

"Australia? Peru? You choose?"

"How about New Zealand? Ever been there?"

"Nope - might be a good time to try it."

"Mac - you've never really done this before. I mean - picked up a completely new identity, walked out of your old life completely. You won't be able to cling to your Highland past - it's too risky."

"I'll cling to you, Methos. That's all I need," he said roughly, grateful all over again that his declaration of love for Methos just a bare fortnight before had not come too late to be with him during this.

Methos didn't reply, but continued his slow stroking. Gradually Mac fell asleep and only woke hours later when Methos urged him gently under the covers. He dropped off again within a minute or two.

Methos woke him less gently sometime later by screaming, and Mac had to pin his struggling bedmate down as he fought one of his thankfully rare but vicious nightmares. It was a toss up whether it was better to wake him or not, but the dilemma was solved as Methos woke himself up with his struggles. "Oh, Christ," the old man said wearily. "Not this again too."

Mac held him in his arms, Methos' face resting on his chest. "Only to be expected after today. It won't be like this forever."

"I hope not. If this is all I have to look forward to, I may as well cut my own head off."

Mac clutched him tighter, remembering Methos' attempt to do just that on the island two years before. "Don't talk like that. We'll get through this - you've got through a lot worse, and so have I."

Methos turned his face to Mac's and kissed him. "I know. Calm down and go back to sleep. We'll need all the rest we can get in the next couple of days, I suspect."

Mac's final awakening that night was the least pleasant of all, and occurred to the sound of that cheap door being kicked down, and a gun being fired. Waking from _that_ , he was no longer in the motel room. He suspected he was no longer in the same state. He was handcuffed to a bed, and wearing underwear that wasn't his own.

He was also being watched. He jerked his arms against the cuffs, as he focussed on the person looking at him - a sandy-haired US army colonel. "You son of a bitch! Why are you doing this to us?" he yelled angrily.

"Mr MacLeod, if you would please calm down, I can explain."

"I don't do conversations in chains," Mac shouted. "And where's Ben Pierce?"

"Mr Pierce is asleep and quite safe. We've sedated him as we did you ..."

He was horrified. "You what! Do you have any idea ...?" He could only imagine the terror Methos would have felt at this fresh insult.

The colonel was calm in the face of Mac's fury. "Mr MacLeod. Please. I know you are an intelligent man, and if you would allow me five minutes to explain, I think I can assure you that neither you nor Mr Pierce are in any danger from us."

"You shot me this morning."

"No, I - or rather we - did not. That was the Chinese, from whom we have just managed to rescue you."

Mac stared at him, too shocked to respond. The colonel smiled. "Ah, I see I've _finally_ got your attention. Look, I understand why you're upset, concerned, and if I'd known the effect our approach would have on your friend, we'd have done things differently. Let's start from the beginning. I'm Colonel Francis Wheeler - I'm also a medical doctor and that is what I do here. You are on a military base in Washington State, and you are quite safe. You haven't been abducted to harm you - we're trying to protect you."

Mac rattled his cuffs. "And these?"

Wheeler laughed. "Actually, those are to protect me. You're some fighter, Mr MacLeod."

"What if I give you my word I won't harm you?"

"That's good enough for me." Wheeler reached over and undid the cuffs, and Mac sat up. He could feel no trace of pain from the gunshot at the motel, which meant it had happened some time ago.

"I'd really like to see my friend before we go any further," Mac said warily, surprised that his word had been accepted so easily.

Wheeler stood. "He means a lot to you, I know." Mac looked at him in puzzlement. "I think you'll find we know more about you than you'll be strictly comfortable with. Come on - we can do this in his room as easily as here."

He handed Mac a pair of army issue pants and slippers, waited patiently for Mac to dress and then led him outside. The corridor held two armed soldiers, and Mac could see the security cameras, so he didn't even think about trying anything. Curiously, though, Wheeler had managed to impress him with his sincerity, and Mac was prepared to play this out this time. They had very little choice after all.

Methos was in the room next door, lying on his side on a cot, uncuffed, sound asleep. A soldier stood on guard, but left when Wheeler ordered him to. "How long?" Mac asked.

"About six hours - we had you both sedated since we didn't want to risk another escape attempt and the Chinese getting their hands on you. He woke up two hours ago and became distraught, so we had to put him under again. That's some post-traumatic stress he's got."

The statement included a question, but Mac didn't want to give anything away. "You don't know what they did to him."

Wheeler motioned him to sit. "Actually, I've got some idea. Let me tell you what we do know. You are both Immortals. You are over a hundred years old, and this fellow is much older than the 29 he claims on his driver's license, which is a fake, since two years ago he was Adam Pierson. You fight others of your kind with swords on a surprisingly regular basis which usually leaves one combatant dead, and the only permanent way you can die is by decapitation."

His words took away any hope that they could finagle their way out of this situation. "If you know all this, are we going to be experimented on?" Mac said dully.

"No," Wheeler said, to Mac's surprise. "The government has known about Immortals for over fifty years - we've had at least ten military personnel who've been or become Immortal while in service that we know of, and of course our people have encountered your kind from time to time. And I have to admit, in the beginning, we behaved as badly as BioKnight. But that was a long time ago - we assessed you as being of no particular threat, and of no particular use, since most of you have the sort of personalities which don't take kindly to serving one's country. You're something of an exception in many ways, Mr MacLeod. We just keep an eye on prominent people such as yourselves, for your own protection as much as ours."

"And him?" Mac said, looking at Methos.

"Ah, now, Mr Pierce is a different and somewhat unfortunate case. We heard through our sources about BioKnight's little efforts - I'm truly sorry that Mr Pierce suffered that, but even that didn't worry us until the Chinese got involved. It's a damn good thing you rescued him - but you didn't get everything back, did you?"

Mac suddenly realised what he was talking about. "His semen?"

Wheeler nodded. "Right. Genetic material. We had some of course, but it was just a scientific curiosity - we know you guys are infertile, so are the women. The Chinese have managed to get around that ... ah, he's waking up, Mr MacLeod, do you want to...?"

He indicated Mac should sit next to Methos and calm him down. The ancient looked dazed and alarmed as the drug loosed its hold quite suddenly on him. "It's me, Ben. You're safe." Mac helped him sit up.

"Who the hell is that?" Methos asked, struggling to become aware, and leaning into Mac's grip, away from the army officer.

"Colonel Francis Wheeler, sir - nice to meet you." Methos knocked away the proffered hand and tried to stand up.

Mac held him back. "Whoa, Ben, slow down," Mac said. "Hear the guy out. I think we'd got the wrong end of the stick on this."

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Methos said in a low, angry voice.

Mac kept a hold of his lover's shoulder. "No. Just sit and listen. It's not like we can go anywhere just yet," he warned, letting Methos know that they were being held against their will, no matter how benevolent their captors.

Methos subsided, and leaned against the wall, sitting back on the bed. "Go on."

Wheeler spoke. "As I was just explaining to Mr MacLeod, the Chinese are the ones after you. We've stopped three abduction attempts in the last two weeks."

"Two weeks ...?" Mac said in surprise.

Wheeler coughed. "Yes - since you both..." He waved his hands in a gesture which indicated some things might be better left unsaid.

Mac looked at Methos, who grimaced. "I always knew you were a bad idea, MacLeod."

"Then it's a damn shame you love me." Methos' eyes widened at the indiscretion and then he smiled, his eyes creasing up in a way that always Mac feel soft inside.

"If you're trying to shock me, Mr MacLeod, I have to warn you - my son is gay," Wheeler said somewhat mischievously.

"In the circumstances, you may as well call me Duncan." Mac held out his hand.

"And I'm Frank."

"Don't expect me to be pally, Colonel," Methos snapped. "I have an aversion to being shot and drugged."

"We didn't shoot you, and the drug was to stop you hurting yourself and my people. You were out of control."

"Does that surprise you?"

"No. No, it doesn't. Mr Pierce, when we're through here, you might find we can help you with those flashbacks. We've had an unfortunate amount of experience in doing so."

Methos showed his revulsion at the idea by pressing back against the wall. "I'm not letting some Army quack touch me. So you say the Chinese are still after me. Why now?"

"Because they have successfully impregnated 20 women with the sperm that was taken from you. And five babies have now been born."

"Dear gods," Methos whispered. "That's impossible. I can't - I mean ...." Mac squeezed his hand.

Wheeler nodded. "Immortals are infertile, I know...."

"You know about us?" Methos said sharply.

"Ben, calm down. I'll fill you in later. Frank?"

"The Chinese have discovered what the barrier is to your semen impregnating a women naturally - you cause some sort of allergic reaction in mortal women's reproductive tracts. I assume Immortal women have a similar reaction, perhaps to all semen. I don't know - one of the reasons we wanted to talk to you was to see if your sperm are somehow different from Duncan's but it's not important. What is important is that the Chinese have run out of supplies, and as their proven, designated breeder, they want you. Badly."

"But how...?' Methos turned to MacLeod. "Mac, this is ridiculous. You _know_ I can't impregnate anyone - and gods know if you could, we'd be hip deep in your kids!"

Mac smiled. Frank explained. "It's simple enough, actually. They've just bypassed the vagina and cervix and used IVF. Their success rate is slightly lower than normal, but they've succeeded with a few women."

"And the children? Are they immortal?" Mac asked.

"Well, that's what we don't know. If the root of your immortality is genetic, then according to Mendelian laws, it is likely not every child will be - and if it's recessive, which it may well be, then possibly none will be like you."

"And the Chinese don't know which, right?"

"So far as we know, no."

Methos ran his hand through his hand and finally stood up. "This makes me physically ill, you know that? I've dreamed for years - more than you could possibly know, Colonel - of having a child of my own, and then to find that when I do, it's to what? Breed an army of Immortal Soldiers? Little Maoist drones?" He grabbed Frank by the shoulders. "You have to stop them. This is an abomination."

Wheeler remained calm, but gently pushed Methos' hands away from him. "I agree, but perhaps right now isn't the best time to discuss this. Look, you're stressed out, probably hungry - you could use a shower, I bet. We were planning for you to stay in our guest quarters, so why don't I take you over there, and you can clean up and eat. We can talk later."

He handed Methos a pair of trousers and shoes such as he'd given Mac. The old man fingered them with distaste but began to dress. "Guest quarters," Methos said sardonically, pulling the pants on. "Is that the present euphemism for a cell?'

"No. You're not a prisoner, but just at the moment you aren't free to leave - for your own safety. Once we talked this afternoon, and laid out a few options for you, then you can decide. I give you my word that in 24 hours you will be master of your own destiny."

"Forgive me, Colonel, but your word means absolutely nothing to me," Methos replied angrily.

"I can understand that. Well, in the circumstances, you have little choice but to trust me, and I hope I will demonstrate our good faith soon enough. Will you please come with me?"

They were led out of the building entrance, and put onto a small people mover. They were driven a short distance to another anonymous brick block and descended several levels down in an elevator before being taken to an unexpectedly luxurious suite which wouldn't have looked out of place in an expensive hotel.

Wheeler showed them the facilities. "There's food and drink, and your luggage in there, gentlemen. If you want anything, pick up the phone and dial '0'. If you want to call anyone, you may do so through the switchboard - but I should warn you, your calls to Mr Dawson are being monitored by the Chinese. That's how they found you."

"And by you?" Methos asked.

"No. Mr Pierce, I assure you, we really aren't interested in violating your privacy more than we have to. This room is not bugged or videoed."

"Sorry if I seem tetchy, Colonel Wheeler. Being arrested at dawn one morning, and kidnapped the next tends to do that to me," the old man replied sarcastically. Mac kept his distance and his counsel - he wasn't completely convinced of Wheeler's _bona fides_ , but on the other hand, what choice did they have for now?

Methos shut the door behind the colonel. "I need a shower, Mac. Want to join me?"

"Maybe later." Methos mugged madly that he _really_ wanted the Scot to join him in the bathroom, and Mac got the message. "Oh, okay. I guess I stink."

"Yes, you do." Methos hauled on his hand and had the water running before Mac got fully in the room. "Gods, you're thick, Highlander," Methos said angrily in a low voice. "The place _will_ be bugged for sure."

"I know - I wasn't planning on giving anything away."

"No, just cosying up to that colonel like you wanted to marry him," he snapped. "Have you gone mad?"

"No - what do you want me to do? The place is crawling with soldiers, I don't know where we are, and I think he's telling the truth about the Chinese. I can't see what we've got to lose by listening to what they have to say this afternoon." He quickly told him what Wheeler had said about the government's prior knowledge of Immortals.

Methos sat on the closed toilet seat. "Do you think it's true? That I'm capable of fathering children?"

"Why would they lie? It makes sense."

"It's appalling. It's a nightmare made reality."

"Do you think it's just you, or all of us?"

"How the _fuck_ would I know, Mac?" Methos said fiercely, not bothering to lower his voice. "An hour ago, I had no idea it was even possible. It _wasn't_ possible thirty years ago - for you, for me, for any of us. Oh, Mac - if only I'd known ...." Methos' face suddenly twisted in pain.

"Alexa?"

"And others. Tessa?" Mac nodded. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be. Look on the bright side - if we get out of this, it means that we can tell other Immortals. They'll be able to choose."

"But the children - will they be Immortal or not? If not, what does that mean? Shit!" he exploded. "This is such a can of worms."

Mac wrapped his arms around him. "Look - give it a rest. You need that shower, we both do, and I'm starving. We both need a clear head for this afternoon. Let me scrub your back?"

He used the excuse of washing his lover to try and ease the tension in the lithe body but Methos was strung tight as a wire and would not be placated. Mac gave up, dried himself off and went back out into the main room. He concentrated on getting fuel inside himself, and checking what was missing from their luggage. Nothing was - there was even a polite note saying their swords were being held and could be collected on their departure. If they _were_ prisoners, it was the weirdest captivity he'd ever experienced. The luxury of their prison was wasted on Methos who had come out of the bathroom and, to Mac's alarm, was beginning to get that wide-eyed look of panic on him again.

"Are you okay?" Mac asked.

"No windows, Mac," he said, gulping. "Gods, I'm losing it again." Mac came to him in two long strides and wrapped his arms protectively around him.

"I won't let them hurt you or take you away, I promise."

Methos smiled at him weakly. "Mac, you have absolutely no way of keeping that promise. If they want me, they'll have me."

"If they wanted you, they would already have you in a lab. It's not the same as before."

"Yet."

"No. Look, why don't you eat something?"

"No way. I'd be lucky to keep down water."

"Then come and lie on the bed with me. Please?" Reluctantly, Methos did as he asked. "Now, just forget about being here for now. Close your eyes, and let me take you somewhere nice."

"Are you coming too?"

"Always. Just be quiet." He set up a gentle stroking rhythm on Methos' back, and kept his voice low, working to ease the continuous tremors in the man lying on top of him. "We're on the island, Methos. The sun is shining - it's hot. You're only wearing those disgusting shorts of yours."

"The ones with the holes?" his lover murmured.

"The ones with the holes you put there deliberately, you dirty old man."

"What are you wearing?"

"What do you think I'm wearing?"

"A smile." Mac grinned and kissed the top of Methos' head, imagining the picture. "You're about to dive into the lake naked."

"And you watch me jump in, and then you unzip the shorts and take them off."

"Am I hard?"

"You're watching me, so of course," Mac smiled, and he heard a low chuckle against his chest. "But don't forget the water's cold."

"Spoilsport. And then what?"

"You dive into the water. So perfect - I love watching you do that, the way the muscles bunch in your legs and back. You dive deep, and at first I think I've lost you but then ..."

"The monster at the bottom of the lake gets me?"

"You're not taking this seriously," Mac accused.

Methos lifted his head briefly and looked at Mac with his green-gold eyes full of mischief, and unsuccessfully protested his innocence. "I am, I am, honest. So where am I?"

"You swim underwater, and all the time I'm panicking, calling out to you. And then I feel your hand on my legs, and on my backside, your mouth ..." A hand suddenly clamped over his face. "What?" he mumbled behind the impromptu gag.

"This is getting a little X-rated for our audience, Mac," Methos said, only half-joking.

"Fuck 'em. Let them get their own sexy boyfriends. Now where was I? Yes, your mouth. I can feel the heat of it suddenly on me - it almost burns because the water is so cold ..."

"And do I get to breathe in this little fantasy of yours?"

"Okay - you come up for a gulp of air and to kiss me ... like this...." Methos obliged enthusiastically. "I want you to stay but you say, 'no, darling ..."

" 'Darling'?!" Methos said dangerously.

"'No, darling, I've been waiting all day to blow you, and I can't wait a second longer.' Ow!" He rubbed the shoulder which had just been painfully thumped. "I was telling the story so I get to choose," Mac pouted, secretly glad Methos has been distracted from his terrors.

"And what a mess you were making of it," Methos said in disgust. "Now, back to the lake. I kiss you and I rub against you ... like this ...."

"Oh."

"And then we swim together over to the shore - you know that nice bit of grass ...?"

"I remember," Mac said huskily, trying to concentrate with Methos grinding against him slowly.

"We lie in the sun, and I say, 'I want you to lick me dry.' And you say...."

"Shut up, old man," Mac said, applying his tongue. "Story time's over."

* * *

They needed another shower by the time they finished, and then Methos decided he'd recovered his appetite. Mac was impatient to be up and doing, and finally called the operator to speak to Wheeler. "We're ready when you are, Frank. What time do you want us?"

"Now, if you like. I'll send someone down to collect you."

They dressed and waited. True to his word, Wheeler's promised guide appeared shortly after and led them - not up as Mac expected, but even lower underground - to an office where an impressive mix of oak and strawberry-leaved officers and expensively suited civilians waited for them. "You didn't tell us we were being put on show," Mac said politely, even though he was angry at Wheeler's apparent deception.

"I'm sorry, Duncan - but this is a complex situation. Please sit down." Wheeler introduced the people - Army and Air Force officers, one CIA and one Pentagon official. "General, would you care to take over?"

A General Fitzpatrick stood and addressed the group. "Gentlemen, we have two issues here - one is a question relating to national security, and the other concerns the future health and well-being of these two men here, one of whom is an American citizen and the other holding dual nationality. Before we start, Mr MacLeod and Mr Pierce, I have to warn you the first will at all times take priority over the second, and if your lack of co-operation in anyway impedes our objectives ... let's just say, it won't do so for long."

"At least you're honest about it," Methos said.

"I don't think there's much to be gained by secrecy at this point. I hope you will be as open as we'll try to be with you."

"Don't bet on it," Methos muttered under his breath. The general appeared to not hear him, or at least chose to ignore the comment.

"I'll start by reviewing the situation. The Chinese government obtained a quantity of genetic material from a company called BioKnight. That material, as I understand it, was removed without consent from Mr Pierce here, who is an Immortal, as is Mr MacLeod. The Chinese have succeeded in using that material to fertilise 20 women using the IVF method. They have had a number of spontaneous miscarriages, but five pregnancies have come to term, with another two likely to do so. The intended disposition and status of those children is unknown, but we have to assume that they are all potentially Immortal, and potentially to be used as agents against foreign governments - or their own dissidents. Mr MacLeod - can you tell me, is there any way anyone can tell if someone is Immortal or not?"

Mac's thigh was painfully pinched at the same time as Methos gritted out "No," in reply.

Mac turned to look at his lover. "Ben ..."

"MacLeod, shut _up_. You have no idea who these people are, what they want with us, what they'll do with any information we give them. I say you and I keep our mouths shut." Methos glared at his lover who tried to show with his expression that in reality, his solution wasn't very practical.

Fitzpatrick interrupted. "Mr Pierce, what possible use could we put this information to that would harm you? We already know about you people."

"You think you do," Methos replied grimly. "I'm not going to make it easy for you to do what BioKnight did to me to other people, or to eradicate us or anything else."

The general looked at Mac. "Mr MacLeod, you've served your country before. Surely you can see we need some way of determining if these children are the threat they appear they could be."

Methos kicked Mac under the table, and he turned a fierce look on him. "I have to tell him something, Ben, or we're tying their hands."

"No - look, Mac. There's no proof whatsoever that any of these kids are Immortal at all. We don't even know if Immortality has anything to do with genetics."

"But if it does? Ben, if the government wanted to kill Immortals, they know enough about us already to do it. General - it has to be another Immortal. We're the only ones who can tell. And chances are pretty good that the Chinese don't have a pet Immortal on hand to help, or they wouldn't have wanted Ben."

There was a deal of hurried whispering between the military and the CIA. A colonel piped up. "Mr MacLeod - are the children Immortal from birth, or is there a triggering factor? Can you tell in advance?"

"I'm sorry, Colonel, but that really does come under the heading of 'too much information'."

"Now he says that," Methos muttered angrily next to him.

"All right - but if I understand what you're not saying is that the Chinese won't know for a very long time which of the children are Immortal, if at all?"

"Yes," Mac felt constrained to say, and got kicked again for his trouble.

More whispering. The colonel spoke for them again. "So it would be in their interests to have Mr Pierce around until they knew, and if they could coerce one or either of you into revealing what you knew, so much the better."

"Possibly." Mac felt uneasy.

General Fitzpatrick spoke. "Well, gentlemen, it would appear that our two problems have become one. It is obvious that the value of our two guests to the Chinese is greater than we thought, and so we must do everything in our power to prevent them falling into the wrong hands."

"General, I would appreciate it if you would not refer to us as if we are weapons of mass destruction," Methos said politely. "And I would also remind you that because of the ... customs ... of Immortals, both MacLeod and I are well used to taking care of ourselves. I would rather put my faith in my own abilities than in a military organisation whose ethics are questionable, whose remit is very flexible and whose good faith has yet to be demonstrated, so far as I personally am concerned."

Mac coughed. "I think what ..."

"Don't you bloody _dare_ to try and put a spin on my words, MacLeod!" Methos shouted. "Now, I was told we could leave once we listened to you. I want to do so immediately."

"Mr Pierce, please remain calm," the general said. "You haven't yet heard our proposals ..."

"For what? Safe custody? Prison? New identities, new lives? For how long, General? Until the funding gets cut, or you finally do decide Immortals might be of some use? No."

"You'd speak for Mr MacLeod too?"

"Mr MacLeod can do what he wants," Methos said haughtily, sitting down and turning his piercing gaze on the general, who turned to Mac.

"Well?"

"Tell us what you propose," Mac said, his heart sinking at Methos' resistance to co-operation, yet knowing he was probably right.

He was. In fact, it was worse than he'd thought, because they wanted Mac and Methos to split up because Mac was well-known, and Methos was bound to be found if he stayed with him. It was Methos who nixed that. "Not on your fucking lives," he said. "You wouldn't ask a heterosexual couple to split up, would you?"

Fitzpatrick looked slightly abashed. "Actually, we would. And I would expect the same response. Please, gentlemen. I know this is all unpalatable for you, and I expect you need to talk about it. But you must understand the threat you are under. The Chinese are very determined, and they are not using their own people to mount these attacks on you - you won't get away with just avoiding Asian faces. Do you want to spend the rest of your long life being a stud for them, Mr Pierce?"

"If it comes to that, I'd rather be dead, General. But if you force me to live like a refugee, at your whim and pleasure, I don't think that is much better. Mac - do you want these people fighting your battles for you? Killing Immortals who come for us?"

"I want you to live, Ben," Mac said roughly. "I don't think anything else matters."

Methos sat back, his mouth agape in surprise, for a moment but then he turned back to General Fitzpatrick. "You're right, we do need to talk. Alone. May we return to our room?"

"Yes, of course. Colonel Wheeler, would you please escort our guests back and ensure they have everything they need?" The general put out his hand to Methos, who took it with obvious reluctance. "Sir, I would just like to say that I appreciate that this has been an ordeal for you and not of your making. I give you my word as an officer and a gentleman that we act in good faith."

"We will give your proposals serious thought, General, but I cannot promise that I will agree to them."

"Fair enough. I will speak to you both later when you have made up your minds."

Wheeler led them out and they went up the elevator and along the corridors in silence. Mac asked Wheeler to come in. "Well?" he asked the doctor.

"Well, I think you're between the proverbial rock and a hard place."

"I notice your boss was skirting the issue of what happens if we _don't_ agree to this," Methos said, sitting on an armchair, perched on the edge as if for easy flight again.

Wheeler spread his hands. "I think you probably can work that out for yourself, Mr Pierce. I'm not going to lie to you - they _will_ do what they have to do, to stop you falling into the Chinese government's hands. Frankly, I think your best interests lie with working with us rather than against us, but I would say that, wouldn't I?"

Methos laughed humourlessly. "Quoting Christine Keeler isn't likely to persuade me, is it? Can't you even begin to see my point of view on this?"

"Yes, I can. They're asking you to go on the run for what may be decades, with no guarantees that the government won't abandon you or exploit you. You're being asked to leave your friends and loved ones, if not each other, and to start a new life immediately after BioKnight wrecked your old one and you'd begun anew. You're putting an immense strain on a new, probably fragile relationship, and then there is this crazy business of you guys cutting each other's heads off for fun. How's that?"

Methos nodded. "Impressive. Yes, that's about right. Mac - we can't. I can't. I haven't lived this long to end it like this."

Mac yearned to go and hold Methos, who was looking as wretched as he'd ever seen him. The situation seemed without solution - unless ... "What if we co-operated in research? Found out if Immortality is genetic or not?"

"Mac!" Methos said, horrified. "No way!"

"Ben, listen. Sooner or later, somewhere, somehow, this is going to happen again. We've only escaped so far by luck, but there's just no way another BioKnight won't find more Immortals, now the Chinese are looking for them. They know there are two of us, and they probably know there are more. If we can prove that you can't breed Immortals, then they'll lose interest."

"And if they can?"

"Well, then we have to try and make sure they don't become a threat."

The two men glared at each other, and finally Mac looked at Wheeler apologetically. "I'm sorry, Frank. We need some privacy."

Wheeler stood. "I understand that, Duncan. For what it's worth, I think there might be a lot of merit in the idea in our government trying to sort the origin of Immortality out. And I know you won't believe me, but the military in this country just doesn't think along the lines of breeding up solders - no funding program lasts that long for a start," he said wryly. "Besides, it's expensive and pointless - you guys aren't invincible, just hard to kill, and you don't have any other superpowers. Now, if you were actually from Krypton ..." Mac managed a weak grin. "Anyway - take your time."

"But we won't be walking out of here tomorrow like you said," Methos accused.

Wheeler took a deep breath before answering. "You might be - I'd say you could. But I don't know how far you'd get past the gate. Please don't let it come to that." He seemed genuinely distressed by the idea, and Mac smiled again.

"We'll try not to. Thanks, Frank. We'll talk later."

Mac turned back to Methos as the door closed. "It's times like this I wished I smoked," the old man said tiredly. "Mac - please don't start in on me."

"I'm not going to," Mac said gently, going over and kneeling in front of Methos. "I love you," he said.

Methos touched his face. "And I love you. No matter what happens, I can't let them split us up - not unless it would actually make us safer, which I doubt."

"So do I. I saw some whiskey in the cupboard - want one?"

"Definitely."

Being an American military establishment, there was naturally plenty of ice, and Mac, for once, added a few cubes to his drink. His mouth had gone dry from the stress of the meeting, and the worry. He waited while Methos took a healthy slug from his own glass. "There's a flaw in your plan, you know," Methos finally said. "Even if the Americans find out the Chinese are barking up the wrong tree, that won't convince them. They'll still come after us."

"Yes, but the Americans can then relax about the possible threat. And in twenty years or so when the children are grown up and are apparently normal, maybe there'll be a change of government, or policy, or whatever."

"If the Americans found they had Immortals already working for them ...." Methos said slowly.

"We can't!" Mac said, horrified. "Methos," he whispered fiercely, "I'm _not_ outing people!"

"Just a thought, Mac. Don't get your knickers in a twist." He looked at Mac, serious once more. "If we disappear, it'll kill Joe."

That was a sticking point for Mac too. "It'll hurt, I know. But it won't kill him - he lives with the possibility of us dying every day."

Methos nodded. "And the Game?" he whispered, clearly still believing they were being monitored.

"I don't know."

"The you know whos?" referring to the Watchers. "They might find us again."

"Come off it," Mac said almost scornfully. "The organisation is falling apart, Joe's been telling me. If it lasts ten years it'll be a miracle."

"So - you think we should give them a bucketful of come, and be nice for the next two decades, hoping it'll all go away?"

"Since you put it like that - yes."

"Mac - I can't. I don't want to be an experiment, and I don't want to be a prisoner."

Mac took his hands. "Look - let's get the best deal we can. A decent place to live, decent identities, guarantees about Joe's safety - as minimal a presence from them as we can get. Give them what they need, and no more. Better out than in if it comes to them against Immortals."

Methos pushed him away to look at him at arm's length. "I never expected this level of pragmatism from you."

"I'm learning. Methos," he whispered the secret name, "I won't abandon my honour for you. But I'll abandon the Game, my life as it is, my identity - everything else - to keep you safe and with me."

"I would die to keep you safe," Methos said quietly. "Everything else is unimportant."

"Then let's do it. We can always walk away if it doesn't work. We're not without resources, you and me."

"I don't like the idea of Joe suffering."

"Neither do I. But maybe in a year or two, they can get a message to him and tell him we're alive and well."

"Can we do this, Mac? Be everything to each other, lose everything but ourselves, and still have the relationship we have now?"

"Yes," Mac said firmly. "You and I have done it before. You've walked away from identities, I've lost everything I've cared about. This isn't as appalling as Tessa's death - at least I won't be alone."

"Not while I'm still breathing," Methos said softly, then bent and kissed his lips. "I wish things had been different, Duncan."

"Aye, so do I. But who's to know it won't be another adventure? It won't be all bad."

"We'll never see your island again."

"Och, never's a long time, and anyway - there are plenty of islands out there." He pulled Methos close and whispered in his ear. "I'm looking forward to seeing that bum of yours naked in the water, and no government on earth will stop me having it."

Methos looked at him straight faced. "I double dog dare you to get Fitzpatrick to put that in writing."

"You're on," Mac grinned.

* * *

_Five years later, on a island off the Australian coast._

"Methos! The boat's in!" Mac was already wading into the water to help Tony moor up. Methos came bounding down the beach.

"Did they come?" He swooped on the small, sturdy crate. "Yessss! Good old Joe - another three boxes and I'll have them all."

Mac ignored his lover's jubilant whoops and turned his attention to the other supplies, checking the manifest. "No peanut butter again?"

"Sorry," Tony said. "The shop was out - I thought you'd want the rest of it, instead of me waiting for it."

"Mac, you can live without peanut butter for another month," Methos said cheerfully.

Mac turned soulful eyes on him. "Oh yeah, says the man who threw a tantrum because they sent Vegemite instead of Marmite two months ago."

Methos looked at him smugly. "That's different. That's _important_ . Tony, any letters?"

"Just the one - from a lady, it looks like."

Mac looked at Methos who grinned knowingly. "She's female, but I don't think she's a lady." He finished emptying the boxes from the dinghy. "Thanks, Tony - coming up for lunch?"

"No thanks, Mac - I want to get home. The footie's on tonight."

They waved him off as he puttered westward back to the larger island where he lived.

"So, what does the little minx have to say for herself?" Methos asked, sitting on the box of his precious books.

Mac scanned the letter. "Oh my god!"

"What?" Methos said in some alarm.

"She's getting married! To one of us!"

Methos groaned. "Oh gods - you're serious?"

"Unfortunately. Some sucker - Geoffry Palliser. Only a hundred years old."

"Is he rich?"

"It's _Amanda_ , Methos."

"Of course, silly me. So is it true love?"

"So she says." He shoved the letter at the Ancient. "Here, you read it - I think I'm going to throw up."

"Not before we get my books back to the house, Highlander."

"Not before we get the books and the _supplies_ , you mean. I don't want that pasta to spoil - I'm sick of rice."

"Bitch, bitch, bitch, MacLeod. You keep this up and I'll get sick of _you_."

Mac launched himself at Methos and knocked him over on his arse. "You know where the boat is, get on with it."

"Make me," Methos said insolently.

"You want me to make you leave? But I'm not sick of you yet."

"Yet?!" Methos said, aggrieved. "How could you get sick of me? I'm fascinating, handsome ..."

"Modest, always here ... A guy likes a little variety from time to time."

Methos shook his head. "Duncan, Duncan, how can you say that when you won't even let me...."

"Don't say it," Mac warned.

"But Mac, there are all these coconuts ...."

"No. That's not variety - that's just sick!"

Methos plastered himself over Mac. "You could let me try and persuade you - that would keep you from being bored," he said seductively.

Mac pushed him off. "With you, it's no being bored I'm afraid of, it's being drilled!"

And with that, he ran off down the beach, not even looking behind, because he knew Methos would be there. Tomorrow, and the day after, and all the days after that. Right where he wanted him to be.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written nearly twenty years ago under another pseudonym. It hasn't been revised (or reread by me) since then.
> 
> I am posting this and my other stories from this period purely so people can read them if they choose. I won't be reading comments, and don't care if you leave kudos. I'm dumping them and running.
> 
> Having said that, I worked hard on them, and I hope they still entertain someone out there.


End file.
